


Presence

by FluffyHeretic



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: M/M, because shuukazu is an underrated ship that needs much more love, but its worth mentioning that this is meant to be the Real kazuaki, i guess its vague enough here that you could technically interpret either way, in an everyone lives au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8757352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyHeretic/pseuds/FluffyHeretic
Summary: Shuu sleeps, and Kazuaki reflects on this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> lmao sorry this is so short but i've been writing yet not posting so i told myself "okay, now i'm going to write something that i'll actually post" and ended up getting out this drabble so. here you go? i hope it's okay lol and i'll try to get out more (hopefully longer) pieces soon

Kazuaki didn’t dare to move, because Shuu was close. He was afraid to startle him into action, yes, but it wasn’t the action itself he was trying to avoid. Rather, it was Shuu moving at all from his current position: leaning back on Kazuaki’s couch, head tilted back, eyes half-closed, and seeming close to falling asleep.

Kazuaki had no idea that a man doing absolutely nothing could be so incredibly interesting, but to say that he was enraptured would be an understatement. He was begrudging to even blink, as if the sight would prove itself to be a hallucination and disappear the moment no one was seeing it.

But Shuu stayed right where he was no matter how many times Kazuaki blinked, because he was real. It was strange, because in fact Shuu had never seemed more real. Real in a way that Kazuaki hadn’t even imagined, so real the situation seemed to loop right back around to the surreal.

For someone who was usually so intent on distancing himself from others, the most distinguishing thing about Shuu was his presence. The entire atmosphere of a room could change depending on whether he was simply in it, even if he was doing something as mundane as making himself a pot of coffee in the staff room.

Everyone knew on an intellectual level what he really was, of course: a person. As much of a person as anyone else. That was the fact of the matter.

But most people didn’t think through facts, they thought through feelings. And what Shuu felt like was a threatening presence haunting the infirmary that occasionally wandered out to infect everyone that came too near with a sense of unease.

That was gone now, though. Even a presence as strong as Shuu’s couldn’t follow him when he was like this: breathing shallow, hair let loose to pool around his head and neck in the crevices of the couch cushions, and body so limp not even his fingers twitched like they tended to do when he was thinking, and he seemed to think about quite a lot. But now he seemed only to be in that hazy state of near-sleep, and who could ever manage to look intimidating in a state like that?

So when the presence was gone, what was left was the person. Yes, that was what fascinated Kazuaki so much. What was before him now was a person, and nothing more. Shuu had always been a person and of course Kazuaki had always known this, but now it could be seen clearly.

Iwamine Shuu, who usually seemed so daunting and untouchable, was a person, who did everything a person did. A person who laughed, and cried, and dreamed.

What kind of things made a person like Shuu laugh? What did he cry over? And what did he see in his dreams?

Could Kazuaki answer these questions someday?

He was a person who had a favorite song that he could always turn to when he needed it, who had embarrassing memories that made him cringe to recall, whose foot would fall asleep, who stubbed his toe on the dining table in the early morning.

Who loved and hated and wondered. Who lived, and would die, someday.

He was real. He was a person.

But most people didn’t see the person, due in no small part to the fact that he didn’t let them. Shuu would not let his presence leave him for just anyone.

And yet he did now. He hid his hard gaze behind soft eyelids and let go of his stoic exterior to melt on Kazuaki’s couch and most of all leave himself vulnerable to just go and fall asleep right there, if the way the air whistled through his nose was any indication.

Kazuaki didn’t know Shuu’s exact criteria for who was allowed to see him like this, but it must have been difficult to meet because it seemed few had. After all, a presence is less effective as a cloak when you remove the shroud for anyone but the most special.

And Kazuaki was among them. He didn’t know what he had done, perhaps it was just something about the person he was, but whatever it was was special enough for Shuu to let Kazuaki see him as a person, without the shroud.

Kazuaki had known what he felt about Shuu when he was just a presence. He knew what he wanted. He knew that he wanted to unravel him and attempt the puzzle that was Iwamine Shuu, maybe not to solve him, but if only just to get deep enough to connect to him as people did.

Now when Shuu was real, and Kazuaki’s feelings could finally be real, Shuu’s still form seemed to say _I’m here for you. Unravel me and see what there is to see. I don’t know what you’ll find, but I’ll let you have whatever it is if only you promise to treat it gently, as it’s not for just anyone to hold._

Kazuaki leaned close to Shuu’s face, as close as he dared, close enough to feel his soft breath, and he felt himself promise that he would do all of those things, no matter how long it would take.

He didn’t know what compelled him to do it, to close the distance just enough to touch their lips together, light as a feather. But even that was too much, it seemed, because Shuu tensed into waking, eyes widening to see and take in, while Kazuaki leaned back, breath catching in his throat at the fear that the moment was gone, perhaps to never be recaptured.

But then Shuu’s body relaxed, lifted head allowing itself to rest back again, gaze becoming gentle, and his voice was soft when he muttered a simple, “Hello.”

“Hello,” Kazuaki said back just as quietly, because he felt suddenly that a part of the puzzle was being solved and you must tread carefully with this kind or you might have to do it all over again - so then, carefully, “Do you want to stay the night?”

There was silence. Shuu’s finger twitched. “Okay.” And, tentatively, a smile.


End file.
